


Let It Snow

by 94BottlesOfSnapple



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [13]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21541369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/pseuds/94BottlesOfSnapple
Summary: It's a cold, snowy day. Foggy just wants to stay in bed. He convinces Frank to do the same.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Tumblr Ficlets [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1419673
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Let It Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Cliche title is cliche.
> 
> You can find this fic on tumblr [here](https://pomegranate-belle.tumblr.com/post/188754244345/fic-or-treat-frankfoggy-softness-like-them-having)

It’s before 6 when Frank tries to sneak out of bed. His movements make the mattress dip, and Foggy’s left squinting at the glimpse of snow-drifted city showing through the gap in his window shades.

“Stay in bed,” he grumbles into his pillow. “It’s too cold out to kill people.”

There’s a long pause. Then Frank laughs, low and quiet.

“Convincing argument you got there, counselor.”

This, this thing they’re doing, is unsettling and ill-advised and honestly downright weird in the light of day. They don’t really cuddle. They don’t date. Just sometimes Frank shows up at Foggy’s door in varying states of ‘beat to hell’ and Foggy patches him up and if no one’s in danger of dying they maybe kind of. Y’know. Do the sex thing. Foggy thinks it’s the closest he’s ever gotten to understanding whatever wild, adrenaline-rush, crazy vigilante bad idea sex Matt and Elektra were doing in college. The point is, it’s not domestic. Or it shouldn’t be. But it’s cold outside, and the world is muffled in snow, and Foggy asked, and…

And Frank slides back into the covers like he belongs there, rolls over to sling an arm across Foggy’s waist. His warm, callused fingers meet skin where Foggy’s sleep shirt has ridden up. Frank himself isn’t wearing a shirt, Foggy knows even without looking behind him — he never does. He always just tugs on the pair of sweatpants Foggy has set aside for him and goes shirtless. Not that Foggy can exactly blame him. If he were as shredded as Frank is he’d wear a shirt as little as possible too. Well. Maybe. He gets cold, ok? And unlike some people — cough Matthew cough — comfort matters more to Foggy than fashion. Anyway. That isn’t the point. The point is Frank’s definitely not wearing a shirt back there. Which seems like a silly thing to be fixated on with regards to a guy whose dick you touched like five hours ago, but hey, Foggy’s brain is special like that.

“Y’gonna stop fidgeting or what?” grumbles Frank, tugging Foggy back against the very naked chest in question. “You’re the one who told me to stay.”

“Yeah,” squeaks Foggy. “I definitely did. Do that. Yup.”

Frank tenses.

“I can still leave,” he offers stiffly, and no, Foggy can’t have that.

He rolls over to face Frank, finds them practically nose to nose, sharing the same air.

“Hi,” Foggy says, like an idiot.

“Hi,” repeats Frank, and whatever had been on his face before, his expression is now one of soft amusement.

Foggy risks a smile, and watches the corner of Frank’s mouth turn up just a little.

“You know, you could stay all day,” offers Foggy, before he can chicken out. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving this apartment today — like, God himself couldn’t drag me out the door. So. I mean, if you want. I’ve got hot cocoa mix and, um, soup and stuff.”

“Yeah?” Frank pauses like he’s thinking about it, but Foggy’s pretty sure he’s already made up his mind and is just fucking with him. “Well. Y’know. If hot cocoa’s on offer, who am I to say no?”

“Keep laughing, asshole,” Foggy mutters, spotting the twinkle of amusement in Frank’s eyes. “My hot cocoa is delicious.”

“I’m sure it is, counselor.” Frank lifts a hand to cup Foggy’s face. “I’m sure it is.”

Foggy’s gonna impress the shit out of him with that hot cocoa later — with tiny marshmallows and a candy cane in it and all that jazz — but for the moment, he lets Frank kiss all the thoughts right out of his head. They’ve got nowhere to be and the bed is warm and it feels like the start of something new.


End file.
